


The Hedonist

by SophinaBlackwood



Series: Rule of Thirds [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophinaBlackwood/pseuds/SophinaBlackwood
Summary: Mustafa's not been himself lately, and Jack will do anything to cheer him up, even if it means doing something ungentlemanly.





	The Hedonist

It wasn’t civilized to obsess over things.

That’s what Jack told himself, anyway, water boiling away in his portable kettle for the gentleman’s fourth cup of tea that night.

“Bugger,” he muttered, rubbing his fingers over his chin. He was fresh out of teabags. There goes that plan to salve his jittery nerves.

In a moment of impulse, Jack picked up his phone from where it lay at the end of the bed and composed a new message.

**Hello chum. Just wondering where you’ve been these past few wwwww**

His thumb paused, staring at the virtual words... then deleted them furiously and threw the phone back down on the bed.

Groaning, Jack paced, exactly six times around his hotel room. When his feeling of discontent had not subsided, he knew the symptoms were serious enough to warrant a dash to the convenience store for teabags.

The need was so great, he considered not redressing in his suit- almost.

Once his jacket was tugged over his vest, Jack bolted out the door, perhaps a tad too quickly, and went careening right into someone else, who squawked in fright.

“M’laddo!” Jack couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips as he realised it was Mustafa he had nearly bowled over. “Where are you off to in such a rush?”

Mustafa took a step away, smirking bashfully, and combed his uncooperative mess of onyx hair back. “Oh. Here, there and everywhere,” he responded ambiguously. Despite the warm look, he also seemed oddly nervous, like he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. Also, he was favouring his lower back.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked, trying to meet Mustafa’s eye but finding it impossible as Mustafa found something of much greater interest in the carpet.

“I’m, uh. _Yes_. Yes, I’m fine.”

With that, Mustafa turned leave and, panicked, Jack shot his arm out to grasp Mustafa’s wrist. Mustafa’s eyes widened at the gesture, and when he tried to shake off the grasp, Jack only held on tighter. It was awfully ungentlemanlike but Jack couldn’t convince himself to let go, not when he knew something was not right. That heaven forbid Mustafa was hurting somehow.

“Can we chat?” Jack whispered, “Just for a tick.”

_Please don’t walk away._

After a painfully long pause, Mustafa nodded tersely and followed Jack inside the hotel room.

“You look awful, chap,” Jack said once the door was closed, in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was also a white lie, as Mustafa was the most handsome bloke Jack had ever known.

The corners of Mustafa’s lips curled in spite of himself and pawed the dark rings under his eyes. “I suppose I do,” he said, apparently not taking the bait.

“Not getting much shut-eye?”

“I’ve been.. trying. There’s just been a lot on my mind,” Mustafa shrugged.

“Worried about tomorrow?” Jack prodded.

Mustafa laughed. “2 out of 3 falls with Drew?! Nah, he’ll be a piece of cake.” Mustafa tried for a smile but Jack couldn’t find it within himself to offer one in response. Not when Mustafa was so clearly hiding something from him. Not when Jack’s thoughts had become more and more muddled with each week that Mustafa declined invitations to watch old wrestling tapes with him, like they had been doing for months now. Jack longed to strategize and fantasize about how they were going to beat Neville for the Cruiserweight title again. To just be close to Mustafa, in any capacity at all, because it made Jack feel so lovely inside.

 _I dream about you,_ Jack thought, heart pounding as Mustafa’s dark eyes held an imploring gaze. _I think about you. I wait to see you. I need you. I've never felt like this about anyone._

For no other reason but intuition alone, Jack felt like Mustafa had been _slipping away_ from him, and that Jack had been doing nothing to stop it.

And it terrified Jack that something- _someone-_ who brought his so much pleasure, could be taken away.

So, in a most unchivalrous way, Jack stepped into Mustafa’s space and kissed him.

Mustafa’s breath hitched, his whole body freezing up. Jack suddenly had the sickening feeling that he’d completely misread the atmosphere between the two fellows. An atmosphere which had existed since the first time they’d accidentally stumbled upon that giant YouTube playlist of 20th century wrestling archives, and Jack’s got butterflies at the way Mustafa’s eyes glittered. Mustafa continued to hold himself still, so Jack bravely pushed into his lips more, screwing his eyes shut and waiting for the worst.

“ _Jack_ ,” Mustafa murmured, his tones almost desperate, and put his hand to the tensed muscle of Jack’s lat to draw him closer. Jack’s own hands trembled, and after a moment came up in return to slide around Mustafa’s lower back, pressing in.

Mustafa hissed painfully in response, causing Jack’s eyes to fling open, tearing his hands away.

“I apologise,” Jack fumbled over the words, feeling like a right bastard for doing _that_ without Mustafa’s consent.

“No, love,” Mustafa said and Jack’s heart did something as dizzying as an inverted 450 splash at the affection. Mustafa brought a hand to Jack’s cheek to draw their gazes together, and Jack could see the wet streak a tear had left across his cheek.

“I hurt you,” Jack said, voice caught in his throat. It was the last thing he’d ever want to do to Mustafa.

“You could never,” Mustafa said, almost sadly, then pulled away. He took a step back, and squeezed his eyes shut, mouth pursed in thought. Jack opened his mouth, then paused as Mustafa’s hands moved to the hem of his own shirt, then pulled it up over his head.

Jack’s eyes widened, all responses failing him. Mustafa’s body was covered with red marks, like he’d been cut, or scratched, or _whipped_. Utterly ashamed, Mustafa averted his eye and turned around slowly. His back was somehow worse, a red glow radiating upwards from his belt line. At his hips were little remnants of punctures, always in a half-moon, like he’d been bitten repeatedly. The marks suspiciously never extended up onto his neck, or his face, or his arms, so even if he wore his wrestling gear, no one would notice. They had been deliberately placed, and Mustafa was strong- wonderfully so- easily able to protect himself in the face of danger. Jack knew the methods of the markings would not have occured unless he _allowed_ it. He wouldn't be so ashamed unless he _wanted_ it. 

_There's a shock, make no mistake._

“Come here,” Jack said, stern but loving.

“No,” Mustafa said, voice in threads. Enough to tell Jack that he’d silently broken down. “I don’t want you to touch me now that I’ve been-”

“Come here, now,” Jack repeated.

Mustafa tensed, then complied, moving back into Jack’s space, though he would not meet his eye. Jack ran the pad of his thumb over a particularly nasty leather burn on Mustafa’s right pectoral. Then, he leant down to kiss where his thumb had just been, tongue teasing over the hard peak of the neighbouring nipple.

“God, Jack, _please-_ ” Mustafa whined through a shiver, hand finding the sharp of Jack’s elbow to squeeze gently.

“Yes,” Jack agreed quietly, continuing to pepper kisses and licks all over Mustafa’s chest, as if it were a healing salve for his wounds. Jack didn’t want to think about how he got the markings. Well, Jack had an inkling of an idea. A feeling, rather. But if it were true then he _really_ didn’t want to honour the thought. Not right now. Not when Mustafa had allowed himself to be so vulnerable and so trusting. “I’ve wanted to do this for the longest,” Jack said, kissing the curve of Mustafa’s lower back, close enough that his firm, soft backside pressed invitingly against Jack’s chest.

“You have?” Mustafa asked needily, guiding Jack back to a vertical so they were together.

Jack couldn’t help but smile, “I thought it was obvious.” He could feel where Mustafa’s skin had broken into goosebumps under his touch. Mustafa’s skin felt amazing. The man was divine. There weren’t enough adjectives in the English language to properly describe Mustafa- to describe his wonderful body, or his perfect face. Jack groaned, willed into a throbbing erection just by Mustafa’s gorgeousness alone.

“Oh, _love,_ ” Mustafa said, pulling Jack into an eager embrace. Jack’s lips parted and Mustafa kissed him deeply, lining their bodies up. “ _My love_.” They gasped in tandem, their hard-ons pressed flush, still with layers of fabric between them. Mustafa’s tongue slipped inside Jack’s mouth, wet and warm and it felt so bloody intimate. It rendered Jack breathless and he wondered what Mustafa would think if he just passed out in his arms from pleasure. But, he was thankfully still conscious, and that meant he was going to get as much of Mustafa as he could possibly get, kissing him harder, hips fidgeting urgently.

“Yes, _yes,_ ” Jack said into Mustafa’s mouth, and somehow they’d found the edge of the bed, and collapsed into it together, not for a second thinking they would let go of each other. Jack urgently pulled his suffocating jacket off, Mustafa helping.

“I knew it would be good, but, _god_ , this is.. _good,_ ” Mustafa sighed in wonder, pushing their bodies together, making Jack groan deeply.

 _I know._ Jack thought. _I love you._

Mustafa pulled away, to study Jack’s face, down to his neck, and breathed with mirth. “You’re so red.”

Jack blushed, knowing his pale skin was probably radiating a crimson hue from head to toe. “Stop, you’ll only embarrass me more,” Jack mumbled, but Mustafa leant in to kiss him again before gazing with a singular intent, like there was nothing else in the entire universe but Jack, Jack-

“ _Jack_ ,” Mustafa said, face falling a little and Jack nodded understandingly. “I think.. I think I’m broken.”

“Shh,” Jack soothed, “None of that now.”

“But I’m-”

“I’m not mad.”

Mustafa blinked, salty globules falling out of his eyes onto the quilt.

“I used to cage fight, m’laddo,” Jack reminded him, “It hurts, but there is a pleasure to the pain. Like wrestling, like-” Jack’s voice faded, hand exploring over the markings on Mustafa’s chest. Mustafa took a shaky breath at the touch. “Is this because Tozawa called you a masochist?” Jack wondered, the conversation suddenly coming to the surface of his memory.

“I’m trying to figure out,” Mustafa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Jack admonished affectionately, “Not to me.”

“Really?”

“Not at all.”

Mustafa seemed to melt in Jack’s embrace, all his muscles going slack. “ _Oh_ , thank god,” he said tiredly, like he was letting go of all his pent up anxieties, if only for a minute. Jack reached a hand up to brush Mustafa's mop of hair out of his eyes, before cupping his warm cheek gently.

“You’re perfect to me,” Jack whispered.

Mustafa closed his eyes and smiled. “Feels nice.”

Jack pressed his lips to Mustafa’s hairline and nodded, “Yes, it does quite.” And pulled Mustafa very close against him. “Very nice,” he said soothingly. Mustafa may have already fallen asleep and it meant the world to Jack that he could offer this kind of security to his friend. His closest friend. Perhaps his soon to be lover? Jack’s heart thumped at the thought, mind already on the tide of dreams. 

He hoped he would find Mustafa in his dreams- as he often did- only this time to wake up with Mustafa in his arms as well. _You are painfully lovely_ , Jack thought, appreciating how Mustafa’s body slot around his. Mustafa truly was perfect. Like a sculpture. The mere sight of him had caused Jack to come undone many times over- sometimes so much so that he could barely manage speech (unusual for Jack when he always had a handy quip at the ready). But when it came to Mustafa, everything got turned inside out and the laws of the universe no longer stood true.

It wasn’t civilised to obsess over things, Jack reminded himself sleepily. Or people.

Well, maybe it was okay. 

_Just this once._


End file.
